time is taking its sweet time erasing you
by starsandstark
Summary: It's no surprise to anyone that Steve's prepared a eulogy and when he's behind the podium you can't look at him. You have to tune him out. Sure, Steve's got a good grip on just how incredible Tony was, but not like you do.


The funeral is a fucking circus and you hate it. The media is there and the guests struggle to get in. It's so impersonal and Tony would hate that it's happening in a church.

You can't bring yourself to sit in the front row or look at Tony's lifeless body in the casket. You don't want to remember Tony like that; nobody does. But they do. Steve, Natasha, Rhodey—everyone else pay their respects by making a round to see Tony's corpse. You can't—you just _can't_ and you won't, so you wait patiently for Steve and Sam to come sit on either side of you in the second row.

You sit and you listen to people who didn't even know Tony talk about him and how great he was. And it's true; Tony was incredible, but no one but you knows just how incredible Tony really was. It's selfish of you to keep it to yourself but no one else deserves to know.

It's no surprise to anyone that Steve's prepared a eulogy and when he's behind the podium you can't look at him. You have to tune him out. Sure, Steve's got a good grip on just how incredible Tony was, but not like you do.

You do your best not to listen to anything anyone says if they didn't know Tony. They make jokes about Tony being a playboy but they have no idea. They have no idea what Tony was really like. They have no fucking clue, and you're pissed that they pretend to know.

There's a last call for eulogies and you have the chance to tell them all just how fucking wonderful Tony was, but you don't. They wouldn't understand, anyway.

The service is over and guests are clearing out but you don't move. Your eyes are still fixated on the back of the wooden pew in front of you until Steve squeezes your shoulder.

"It's time to go."

"I want to stay," you tell him. You want to stay with Tony as long as he can.

Steve sighs and hangs his head. "You can't stay, Buck."

* * *

Back at the tower Steve is with Sam and Natasha and you pretend not to notice when Steve glances over his shoulder at your broken form. You probably shouldn't feel the need to look away but you do. You don't want to look vulnerable or broken at all but it's too late because you do.

The next time you look back up, Steve is standing in front of you with a plate from the catering buffet.

"I'm not hungry."

"You should eat it anyway," Steve says. He puts the plate down and you glare at it. You love Steve but right now you just want to be alone.

"I'm not gonna eat it so you might as well take it back."

Steve sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "You're not the only one who lost someone, you know."

That hurts. It really fucking hurts and you don't want to look at Steve anymore. You lift your leg to kick the coffee table away from you before getting up and storming to your room.

Steve doesn't see you for the rest of the night.

* * *

You hate the way the extra pillow on the empty side of the bed still smells like Tony. You've been meaning to ask housekeeping to wash it but you can't bring himself to do so. Maybe you'll get to it one of these days.

After all, it's only been a week.

* * *

You feel awful and miserable but mostly you feel empty. You don't have a mission and you don't have Tony; all you have is Steve who is overbearing and doesn't know when to stop.

You spend more and more time alone in your room.

* * *

On the second week after the funeral you really miss Tony. You haven't slept much and mostly you stay in bed. You don't even sleep and now you feel the urge go to Tony's grave.

It's 3 AM and there's freezing rain but you don't care. You pull on a pair of black sweat pants and the hoodie that hangs on the hook by your door—it's Tony's, and maybe that's just a coincidence. Probably not.

You're quiet when you leave and you're relieved that you don't have to answer questions about where you're going and when you'll be back. You know Steve means well but you really can take care of yourself.

The rain stings your cheeks but you don't care. You're running and you're at the cemetery in 15 minutes. You hop the fence with ease and suck in a sharp breath as you approach the fresh grave. The marker is temporary and it's impersonal and you hate it. That doesn't keep you from staring at it for the next 3 hours.

You're back in the tower before Steve wakes for his morning workout.

* * *

You go to Tony's grave a lot. It's not healthy but it's something to do. You go out in the rain and in the middle of the night if that's what you want. When it's sunny you stretch out on your belly in the grass. Sometimes you sit still for hours and other times you stare at the marker like it's a puzzle. You try not to think about anything. All you want to do is be with Tony.

There's nothing wrong with any of this—until Steve finds you at the cemetery in the middle of a snow storm.

"Buck, I know you're having a hard time but this—this isn't the way to deal with it."

"Do you know a better fuckin' way?"

Steve chooses not to answer you. "C'mon, you can't stay out here. It's not him," Steve says, gesturing to the grave.

And how fucking _dare_ Steve. You stand up and you look absolutely terrifying.

"You don't think I know that? I fucking realize that, Steve. You don't—you don't fucking get it. You don't get it, and I don't expect you to, but can you for once—just this once—stop being so fucking neurotic and leave me _alone_?"

Steve sighs, but he does as you ask.

* * *

It's 4 AM and Steve hears noise coming from the living room. He pulls himself out of bed to go check and he sees you curled up on the sofa. Steve's focus drifts to the TV and there's video footage of Tony repairing armor.

Your voice is behind the camera asking Tony what he's doing, and Tony's explaining it in ways only engineers can understand.

Steve sneaks back to bed and you don't even notice.

You watch Tony work on his suit and you watch Tony play pranks on Bruce and you watch the vlog you made together that one Sunday. And then it's your anniversary and he's fucking you and he's whispering sweet things in your ear. At first you're smiling because it's like home movies but better, but then you're sobbing.

It's what finally breaks you.

* * *

You know you shouldn't be but you are. You're in Tony's bedroom and the bed still unmade from the last time you slept in it. You think that maybe going through Tony's things will help, but it doesn't. It only makes things so much worse.

And then you find a pair of matching rings

You try to remember how to breathe but it feels like your chest is crushing your heart completely with the weight of your grief. You start crying, and you can't figure out how to stop.

Steve finds you there an hour later and when Steve asks what's wrong you can't speak. You press the box into Steve's hand and you have to look away when Steve lifts the lid because it hurts. Everything hurts and you honestly doesn't know how you're supposed to get over it now.

"Oh, Buck," Steve whispers. He hugs you, and this time you can't bring yourself to push Steve away.

* * *

It's the next morning and you bring the rings to the cemetery with you. It's morbid and it's unhealthy but you want to, so you do; you bury one of the rings at Tony's grave and slips the other one onto your own left hand. You're crying and you can't remember how to stop.

You don't really see the point in trying anymore.

* * *

Three weeks after the accident and you still can't cope. It should be easier but it's not; it's getting harder. You can't even bring yourself to go to the cemetery because it hurts to even move anymore. Existing hurts. Everything hurts.

When you do manage to sleep you dream about Tony. Your body doesn't let you sleep for long enough so you resort to taking the pills that were prescribed for your insomnia. Those help, especially when you take three or four at a time. You can sleep and dream and not remember the bad things like Tony being gone. You dream of good things like spending lazy Sundays in bed and you dreams of your wedding.

You dream of happiness.

* * *

Steve worries a lot. He hovers and he paces the halls because he hardly ever sees you anymore. You sleep because it's the only thing that takes the pain away. You rarely eat and Steve is worried. He's so, so worried and he doesn't know what to do.

This time when you wake, you see Steve sitting in the chair beside your bed. Steve has been crying, that much is obvious, and he looks almost as broken as you do.

"Buck," he whispers. It's simple but it's pleading and desperate at the same time.

"I miss him," you whisper back. It's all you can say. It's broken and pathetic and when Steve moves to lie down behind you, you don't protest. He's firm and warm and if you close your eyes long enough you can pretend that it's Tony.

"You can't keep doing this," Steve says. "I'm so worried."

"You're always worried."

"I hardly see you at all. You're in bed all the time. You haven't eaten in days."

You curl into yourself. "I'm not hungry."

"Please," Steve pleads. "Please just get up and eat and take a shower. I'll leave you alone after that. Please."

You sigh but you do. You get up and eat breakfast and go to shower. At first you don't entirely understand why Steve is so worried—until you realize that you've been in the same clothes for over a week.

You should probably care, but you don't.

* * *

It's a routine now. You get up at 2 in the afternoon to shower. You take your pills to help you sleep and it's all Steve can do to watch you shuffle down the hallway in your pajamas and eat your toast with your eyes half open.

* * *

You wake with a jolt because you swear you've heard something. You scramble out of bed and stumble into the living room and it's the saddest thing Steve's ever heard when you whisper, "Tony?"

You squint and blink and see only Steve on the couch watching TV. Your lip quivers and your eyes water. Steve coaxes you onto the couch and holds you.

You sniffle until you fall asleep.

* * *

You don't know how much longer you can do this for. You miss Tony and it's killing you. It's sucked every bit of life out of your body and you want to fucking die.

You're so low, you're so sad and you sit on your bed crying. It's silent but it's powerful and your face is wet with tears. You push the barrel of the gun harder against your temple and your finger's on the trigger. You're about to squeeze when there's a knock at the door.

"Buck?"

You sigh and you're trembling when you drop the gun in your lap. "Yeah?"

Steve—sweet, caring, worried Steve—pokes his head in the door of your dark, dark room. "Just checking on you."

"I'm fine," you tell him. And you're lying; you're such a fucking liar.

"Okay, then."

You wait until Steve is gone to put the gun away.

* * *

"I'm worried," Steve says.

"You're always worried," you say back. You look down and play with the gold band on your ring finger.

"I never see you anymore. Please, Buck. With everything we've been through, I don't want to lose you to this. Just—please."

"I'll try," you whisper.

You're such a fucking liar.

* * *

When Steve can't handle it any longer you take to sleeping on the couch right where Steve can see you. You're not trying to be funny or sassy because dragging your quilt out of your room and curling up in Steve's line of vision is the closest thing to a compromise you can think of.

Steve turns to Sam for emotional support. He tells him about how much you sleep and how you hardly eat and barely shower. Sam hugs Steve and they talk for a long time about everything until Sam asks him out for coffee.

Steve says yes.

* * *

One morning you wake up and Steve has a boyfriend and his name is Sam and when did _that_ happen?

You know that you should be worried but you can't focus on yourself; all you can focus on is missing Tony. Missing his kisses and missing the way Tony would walk up to you and hug you. You miss his laugh and his stupid jokes. You miss everything and it hurts so, so much.

You're sleeping your life away and it scares you, but you don't know how to stop.

* * *

It's Steve's birthday and he doesn't even try to talk to you. He has plans with Sam and they have to get going early if they want to avoid the crowds.

Steve pours himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen and goes to sit at the table. That's when he sees it: a plain white envelope with 'Steve' written in your handwriting that you left him last night. He hesitates but he finally opens it and there's a letter inside.

_I should be able to get out of bed and at least put on a fake smile for my best pal on his birthday but I can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't be the friend you deserve. I'm sorry I'm such a shit friend. Sorry you have to worry about me. I'm sorry. Happy birthday. I'm sorry._

* * *

Sam sleeps over on Steve's birthday and the next morning when you come into the kitchen, you're surprised to see him at the table.

You push your tangled hair out of your face. "Where's Steve?"

"Shower."

You sigh and decide to eat a bowl of cereal before Steve makes you. You sit at the table across from Sam and lean over the bowl. Lifting the spoon takes so much more effort than it used to.

It's silent between the two of you until Sam points at the gold band on your finger. "What's that?"

"I was supposed to get married," you mumble. You drop your spoon into your bowl and you just _break_. You break down right there at the breakfast table and you're sobbing. In seconds Steve is there beside you, towel around his waist and hair still damp. He holds you tight against his chest and you feel so small when you're curled up like this.

"I'm sorry," Sam says. And he keeps saying it, but it doesn't take the pain away. It doesn't stop you from crying.

You cry for what seems like hours until Steve finally takes you back to your bedroom. He helps you into bed and covers you up and kisses your head because he can't stand to see you so vulnerable and broken.

"I'm sorry," Sam says when Steve comes back into the room. "I didn't know."

"You couldn't have. It's okay."

Steve reaches out and pulls Sam by the hand onto the couch in the living room. They curl up together and Steve finds comfort in leaning his head on Sam's shoulder. He tells Sam about how you and Tony were together for almost 2 years when Tony died. He tells Sam that no one else really knows the extent of your relationship with Tony because you always wanted it that way. He tells Sam that Natasha and Clint ask why you're so upset over Tony's death. He tells Sam about how you're asleep more than you're awake. And Steve is worried. He's so, so worried, and soon he's crying, too, because he doesn't know how to help you.

He's not sure if anyone can.

* * *

They talk for what seems like hours until Steve is dozing on the sofa now and Sam decides to go apologize. He walks down the hall to your room, knocks on the door, and pokes his head in. For the first time in a long time you're awake.

"Can I come in?" Sam asks.

You nod but you're still crying and you wipe your face with the back of your hand.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," Sam says quietly. "Steve told me about the ring. I'm sorry about Tony. I didn't know you two were so close."

You nod and swallow hard. "No one really knows."

"Steve knows, though."

"Yeah," you whisper.

Sam comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. "He's worried about you, you know."

"I know," you say and the tears are coming again. "I miss Tony. I miss him. He was everything to me, I don't-…"

Sam takes your hand and you don't pull it away. "Not a lot of people get to experience that kind of love."

Sam squeezes your hand and talks to you for a long time. He talks to you about how your love was special and irreplaceable and he tells you that you can't hold onto it forever because it's not healthy. You decide that you really like Sam because he isn't like Steve. Sam is nice and calm and quiet. Sam isn't pushy. Steve tells you things you need to hear.

"You've gotta start looking up. This isn't how Tony would want you, is it? He'd want you to be happy without him. It's hard—god, I know it must be hard—but you can't let yourself stay like this. It's not healthy. Would Tony want this for you?"

"No." you sniffle and shake your head because this isn't happiness; it's not even close.

"He'd kill you, probably."

You nod because you know. You know all of those things and you know that Tony would hate it if you stayed like this so you'll try. You'll look at your ring and you'll try not to resent that Tony never got the chance to propose. You'll try to become friends with Steve again and you'll try not to be sad that Tony is gone.

Sam hugs you and pats your back.

You wipe your face and sniffle. "Thank you, Sam."

* * *

You still miss Tony. You miss him and you want him always, but he's gone and you know that. You've done your best to not to forget but to move on. You sleep less but when you do sleep you dream of Tony.

Those are your favorite nights.

* * *

Two years have passed and so have a lot of things. Birthdays, Christmases, weddings. You're in therapy and it helps but there's still so much sadness. There are bad times and good times and everything in between. You can't be trusted to stay by yourself these days, so you move into the house Steve and Sam buy after their honeymoon.

* * *

Steve has breakfast with you most mornings to make sure you eat. This morning is quiet like the others until you ask, "Hey Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"What's it like to be married?"


End file.
